


Cosmos

by Eternaltsundere



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Birthday Presents, Canon Compliant, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternaltsundere/pseuds/Eternaltsundere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I know it's not much,” Marco laughs, holding the flowers out closer in a gesture clearing meaning that he wants Jean to take them. “They reminded me of you. You know, the colors and all. Armin says they're called cosmos.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosmos

“ _Jean.”_

The voice is soft, lulling him from what has been to that point a surprisingly peaceful sleep, napping against the bark of an old oak tree and shaded from the blinding sun by its fading leaves, and Jean yawns widely as he awakens from his slumber.

“Jean,” the voice repeats, and he looks up now, surprised to find that its Marco there waiting for him to wake, smiling that warm smile of his and holding his hands behind his back. “I'm sorry to wake you,” Marco says, and he does look sorry, through his smiling; there's that tinge of regret in his eyes, and Jean wants to chase it away. He's fine, he was only resting his eyes – whatever Marco needs he's all-too-happy to oblige.

“But I got you something.” It takes him a moment to register that Marco has went on; he had been too busy staring at the freckles adorning his face, too busy admiring the dimples he got when he smiled. “For your birthday, I mean.” Jean is surprised at the words, but definitely interested – no one else has given him anything, not yet at least.

“What is it?” Jean asks after a short silence, frowning a little in his impatience. Marco just smiles wider, and – is that a blush Jean sees on his face? – with a little chuckle, moves his hands forward, and what's clutched in one hand is a bit of a shock to Jean. There are three flowers there, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze; their colors are the most striking thing about them. They are a pale, pale pink in the center, but as the color moves to the ends of their petals, it changes, fades to a bright purple that reminds Jean of something, though he isn't quite sure what.

“I know it's not much,” Marco laughs, holding the flowers out closer in a gesture clearing meaning that he wants Jean to take them. He does, though he still doesn't say anything. “They reminded me of you. You know, the colors and all. Armin says they're called cosmos.”

“Thanks,” Jean says after a brief pause. “But you didn't--”

“Wait,” Marco says. “I'm not done.” He is still for a long moment, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, and Jean thinks it looks like he's steeling himself for something -

Then Marco is coming closer and _oh._ He's kissing him, tentative and slow, like he wants to give him the chance to push him away if he wants, and Jean drops the flowers into his lap, frozen in awe and unable to react, until -

He's gone again, pulling back and rubbing at the back of his neck with a sheepish expression. “Sorry,” he says, before Jean can tell him how sorry he definitely shouldn't be. “I've just always wanted to do that.”

Before he can turn and leave like he must be planning on doing, Jean has grabbed him and pulled him down for another kiss. He tries not to be too forceful, but at the same time he wants to tell Marco everything with the gesture, how much he cares and how much he _wants_ this – things he knows he would never be able to express aloud, not well enough at least. Marco responds quickly, and his lips are soft and warm and Jean doesn't think he's ever felt happier than he does now. It's chaste, but that's alright – this is all he could have ever wanted, and they have time.

When Marco pulls away this time, Jean encircles his arms around him and tugs him down to sit by him against the oak tree. Marco laughs as he does it, and then his head is on Jean's shoulder and his hand is in his, and Jean doesn't ever want to move.

The silence stretches on comfortably, nothing but the sound of their breaths and the rustling of leaves above them. _This is nice,_ Jean thinks; for the first time in a long time, he feels like he is home.

They sit like that for a long while, until the sun is inching towards the horizon and fluffy clouds have rolled into view in the once-clear sky.

“I wish we could stay here forever.” The words have slipped past Jean's lips before he's noticing them, and just like that Marco's head has moved from his shoulder. For a moment Jean blushes hotly, feeling a little stupid, until he sees the look on Marco's face out of the corner of his eye and turns to look. Marco doesn't look embarrassed or shocked by what he's said – he looks _sad,_ something deep and aching visible in his eyes this time that makes Jean's heart ache, too.

“I'm sorry,” Marco murmurs gently. Jean is about to ask why, tell him he has nothing to be sorry about –

But then Marco's face changes, and oh God, half of it is _gone,_ just blood and emptiness and what's left of it stares at Jean mournfully as tears begin to track down a lone cheek.

Jean recoils, though he doesn't scream, just stares, horrified, as Marco opens his mouth (or half of it) to speak again.

“But you know we can't do that.”

Then the world is swirling around them, blurring, growing darker by the second, and the wind is howling in Jean's ears and he wants to scream, it's _all wrong_ he didn't want this, what's happening –

The last thing he sees before he wakes up is Marco mouthing words that he thinks might be _I love you._

And if the others hear him crying that night, sobbing and hiccuping and face buried into the covers as he struggles to reconcile what has been only a dream and what is horribly, painfully _real,_ they never say anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Jean. (Early birthday?)
> 
> I'M REALLY SORRY. I'm not sure what possessed me to write this. But, uh, there it is.


End file.
